Have A Very Merry Christmas
by Book girl fan
Summary: A Merry Christmas to you all! My contributions to the Hades Lord of the Dead December Challenge of Awesomeness.
1. Washed Up

**My apologies for my tardiness, I've been on holidays, and then very distracted by end of year celebrations. **

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_From Spockologist:_  
_1. Washed up_

Two figures were sprawled on the beach, the sun just rising over the grassy slopes ahead, and the faint marks on the sand behind them betraying their point of arrival.

"Holmes?" one of the men asked wearily, his head not raising from its position on the beach shores.

"Yes, Watson?" The other asked in return, his voice muffled by the sand.

The first man raised his head from the sand and turned a tired glare on his companion. "Next time you are asked to investigate murders on a steam ship, turn it down."

A soft chuckle came from the other man's general direction. "My dear Watson, I could not agree with you more."


	2. Bestseller

_From Galaxy1001D:  
Dec 2nd: Write a story where Watson's book sells more copies than Holmes' monograph._

"You aren't sulking, are you, Holmes?"

"Sulking? How could you accuse me of sulking, Watson? Futhermore, what cause could I possibly have to sulk?"

"I don't know, Holmes, but perhaps the fact that my book has sold more copies than your monograph has something to do with it?"

"That is entirely irrelevant to this conversation. I would not sulk over such a small matter. In fact, I do not sulk at all."

"Of course you don't, Holmes. I don't know why I would have thought so. Curling up on the armchair and pouting all evening is in no way indicative of sulking."

"Exactly."

"In that case, I suppose it would be no consolation at all to know I could not have done it without you? After all, you are the principal character of my book."

"No, I suppose you could not have done it without me. Well, Watson, let us go out to celebrate your new status as a best selling author!"


	3. Just Wanted To Keep Living

_From Alosha135:_  
_3rd - Use: "I never wanted to lie. I just wanted to keep living."_

"Where is the boy?" the gruff inspector asked in his natural French.

"Here, monsieur," came a little voice from below. He looked down and saw a young boy, no older than twelve, with dark curly hair, and a very scared expression. The boy was trembling, yet bravely held his ground as the inspector called him into his office.

"What was your part in this?" the inspector asked the boy.

"A man came to the hotel, telling me to take a message to the doctor, up at the cliff. He told me to give the message to the doctor, and not to say a word about him, or I would die!" The lad looked at the inspector with frightened eyes. "I never wanted to lie. I just wanted to keep living."

"What happened after that?" The inspector continued, not swayed by the boy's plea.

The boy looked down at the ground. "I did it. I brought the message to the doctor, and he came back down to the hotel. He and his friend said I should stay up on the cliff, to be a guide for the monsieur. I would have," here the boy raised his eyes to the inspector again, to convey his sincerity, "but I saw the man from before, the one who had given me the message! I ran. I did not want to see him again, nor for him to see me."

The boy looked at the inspector. "I just wanted to live, monsieur."


	4. When You Aren't A Irregular

_From Hades Lord of the Dead_  
_A crossover with anything you want_

Wiggins and the Irregulars didn't work for Mr Holmes all the time, and when they didn't, they still had to survive somehow. When Mr Holmes didn't have work for them to do, they went to the man that had helped many of them to survive in the big city. His name was Fagin. He had taught many of the Irregulars how to pickpocket, nick from market stalls, and make the most of their quick fingers.

Wiggins was a special favorite with Fagin. In fact, his skills had granted him with the nickname, the Artful Dodger.

Well, they needed to earn a living somehow, and this was as good a way as any, and more convenient than most.


	5. Trapped

_From Sparky Dorian:_  
_5. Trapped._

Holmes's intimate knowledge of the streets of London had, for once, failed him. They were trapped in a dead end street, their escape halted by a high brick wall. The men that were chasing them slowed their pursuit, seeing that their was no escape for their quarry.

"We 'ave you now, mate," the leader said, hefting his stick and grinning in anticipation. "Yew can't get out o' here. No escape this time for Mr 'Olmes. And the doc too, o' course." He tipped his hat at Watson, still grinning widely.

Holmes and Watson glanced at each other. They knew their situation was dire. Facing a large group of men with sticks, with no chance of escape, was not a promising situation to find themselves in.

"Come on, mates! Let's take 'em out!" the leader shouted, spurring his men into action. The men moved forward, and the battle began in earnest.


	6. An Eventful Evening

**My apologies if I have something wrong, I have never seen anybody drunk before. Hopefully, this will be good nonetheless.**

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_From Galaxy1001D:Dec 7th: Write a story where Holmes and Watson run into Irene Adler, who at the moment is extremely drunk!_

"My goodness, Holmes!" Watson exclaimed as he and Holmes walked home from a long and wearying case. "Is that Miss Adler further down the street?"

"I believe it is, my dear Watson, but do not forget, Miss Adler has been Mrs Norton for many years now," Holmes looked thoughtfully at the approaching figure. "It is certainly odd that she should be in London. I had believed her to have returned to America with her husband."

They had no more time to talk, for Irene was upon them, swaying with every step she took. "Hello there, Mr Holmes," she giggled. Both men took a step backwards at the strong smell of alcohol on her breath.

"Good evening, Mrs Norton," Holmes said, regaining his composure. "Are you quite well?"

"No, I'm not well, not at all." Her face fell. "I lost my dear Godfrey. He's gone, not here, and I want him here with me." She looked at Holmes, tears pooling in her eyes. "Can you find my Godfrey, Mr Holmes? You're a detective, can you find him for me?"

Before Holmes could reply, Irene wavered on her feet, and would have fallen, if not for Watson catching hold of her arm. She smiled at him, leaning on his arm and batting her eyelashes. "Who is your friend, Mr Holmes? He's very handsome?"

"Mrs Norton, this is Dr Watson," Holmes said brusquely.

"Is there something we could do to help?" Watson asked the woman hanging off his arm.

She seemed to regain some measure of sobriety, looking him straight in the eyes with a serious expression. "I'm afraid there is nothing you can do to help me, doctor. Even Mr Holmes cannot help me now."

"Perhaps we could escort you back to your hotel?" Watson offered, concerned at leaving the obviously drunk woman alone on the streets.

"Yes, let's do that!" Irene said happily, her sober moment forgotten. The men escorted Irene home, her holding Watson's arm the entire way. Upon arrival at the hotel, she finally released her grip in Watson's arm, turning to look at both men. "Goodnight Mr Holmes, Dr Watson! We should do this again!" She smiled at them waving goodbye, then swayed again, falling back towards Watson. As he moved forward to catch her, she leant and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, doctor!" Finally, she went inside, and both men made their way home. It was mutually agreed they would never discuss that night again.


	7. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

**As it seems, I have mistakenly posted the prompt that was meant to be for the seventh, as chapter six. Therefore, this prompt is the actual prompt for the sixth, and the last prompt was meant for the seventh. **

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_From Madam'zelleGiry:_

_Day 6: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen_

As Holmes and Watson sat by the fireplace, the lilting voices of carol singers drifted up from the street below.

"Carolers? On a night as cold as this?" Watson exclaimed, rising from his chair, wincing at the pain in his leg awakened by the bitter winter air.

"Not just any carolers, my dear fellow," Holmes said, not even bothering to open his eyes. "It is our young friends, the Irregulars, who are out tonight." He suddenly bolted out of his chair and strode to the door. Opening it, he shouted, 'Mrs Hudson! Tell our guests to come inside!"

Before long, a group of small boys had made their way inside, and were rapidly devouring the hot chocolate Mrs Hudson had kindly provided, to a chorus of approving noises.

"What about another carol?" Watson asked, as he noticed the boys finishing their mugs.

The boys exchanged glances, smiling and nodding, before bursting into song. "God rest ye merry gentleman, let nothing you dismay!" Smiling while continuing to sing, the boys made their way out the door, their song lingering behind them.


	8. A Little Matter To Consider

_From Sparky Dorian:_  
_8. Lestrade has a case that Holmes and Watson find it difficult to take seriously._

A tug on his pants leg brought Lestrade's attention to the big brown eyes peering up at him. "Daddy? I can't find my dolly."

"I'm working, Molly," Lestrade said. He turned from his daughter back to Holmes and Watson, to continue discussing a newly finished case.

"But Daddy, I need my dolly!" Molly tugged on Lestrade's pants leg again, looking beseechingly up at him.

Lestrade sighed. "A few moments, gentlemen?"

"Of course," Watson replied, sharing an amused glance with Holmes.

Lestrade crouched down to his daughter's level. "Now, Miss Molly, where did you last see your doll?"

"On your chair, Inspector Daddy," Molly said, eliciting hastily covered laughter from the other occupants of the room.

Steadfastly ignoring them, Lestrade said brightly, "How about we look over there?" He took Molly's hand and led her over to his chair. "No dolls here, Miss Molly." He looked around the room, eager to have this matter done with as quickly as possible, and his eyes caught on a small figure laying on his desk. He picked it up and showed it to Molly. "Is this your doll?"

She giggled, clapping her hands in joy. "Yes! Yes, that's my dolly!" She cuddled it tightly, then reached up to give Lestrade a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Daddy."


	9. Tinsel

**My apologies for the poor quality, I've been trying to get these stories up faster, and I'm afraid the quality may have suffered.**

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_From Wordwielder:_

_9) Tinsel_

A small strand of brightly coloured metal dropped into a test tube Holmes was working on, landing with a soft plop. Concentration broken from his experiment, Holmes looked up to see a thread of tinsel adorning the space over his workbench.

"Mrs Hudson!" he shouted, fishing the strand of tinsel out of the tube.

He heard the soft sounds of someone coming up the stairs, followed by his landlady's voice saying, "What is it, Mr Holmes?"

"What is tinsel doing here?" He scowled, turning to face her, and holding up the strand of tinsel as evidence.

"It's Christmastime, Mr Holmes," Mrs Hudson said, looking disapprovingly at him. "Christmas decorations make the house look cheery."

"I don't care if it is cheery or otherwise, just keep it away from my experiments!" Holmes turned back to his experiment as Mrs Hudson left the room, muttering to herself about sour lodgers and lack of Christmas feeling. Just as he was about to add the final ingredient to his experiment, there came a soft plop, as another strand of tinsel dropped into his test tube.

"Mrs Hudson!"


	10. Faded Memories

_From Alosha135:  
10th - Holmes cannot remember who Watson is_

It was a sad ending to a wonderful life, Watson thought as he made his way up the path to the small cottage. Such a great mind, and a great man, being defeated by the unconquerable time.

Watson opened the door, calling out, "Holmes, where are you?"

Holmes came out of the sitting room, looking suspiciously at his guest. "Who are you?" he asked, drawing himself up to his full height.

Watson sighed to himself. Every time he came, he hoped it would be different, but he always hoped in vain. "I'm your doctor, Mr Holmes, Dr Watson," he said with a weary smile, knowing that the name would mean nothing to Holmes.

Holmes relaxed his posture slightly, but made no sign of recognizing his old friend. The visit proceeded as all his other visits had, with no recognition on Holmes's part, and much awkward silence on Watson's. Finally, the doctor could stay no longer, and departed the cottage, mourning for the dear friend he had just left, who now knew him as no more than a stranger.


	11. Just A Cold Winter

_From Alosha135:  
11th - an old friend is injured/ill_

"Good heavens, Lestrade, why aren't you in bed?" Watson asked, rising from his chair as a bleary eyed Lestrade shuffled into the room, coughing into his handkerchief.

"It's just a cold, doctor, I'm fine. Is Holmes here?" Lestrade swayed in his feet even as he tried to look around the room, prompting Watson to quickly grab his arm and lead him to a chair.

"I'm afraid Holmes has gone out, Inspector, and may not be back for many hours yet." Seeing Lestrade rising from his chair as if to leave, he hastily continued, "He may also be back any minute, so you might as well stay for a cup of tea."

Watson prepared a cup of tea and brought it back for the Inspector, only to find Lestrade asleep. Watson smiled. He knew the man was too sick to be working, althought he wouldn't have expected him to fall asleep quite this quickly. Drawing a blanket over the sleeping man, he then sat back down in his own chair with the cup of tea. This cold weather really did make one sleepy, Watson thought. Just...a bit...

Five hours later, Holmes came in to see two men asleep in the sitting room, and one half finished cup of tea on the side table.


	12. The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

_From Madam'zelleGiry:_  
_Day 12: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe._

"A most unusual case, Watson. Four children seem to have disappeared inside a wardrobe-"

"A wardrobe? How could they possibly have managed that?"

"I can only assume it was bigger on the inside. As I was saying, they seem to have disappeared inside a wardrobe, and the owner of the wardrobe wishes for me to find them, and retrieve them from the wardrobe."

"Well? Will you take the case?"

"I am afraid I am far too busy at the moment to take such a case. Besides, I'm sure they will be found before long. If they are not found within the next twenty four hours, then I may look into the matter."

"Very well, Holmes. If you are not going to be taking the case, perhaps you will have time to dine with me at Simpsons?"


	13. Flowers

_From SheWhoScrawls:  
December 13: Flowers_

Holmes snuck into the room, trying desperately to remain unheard. His mission was a dangerous one, with dire consequences if he was discovered. Despite his best efforts, his foot caught on table, making the vase on it wobble noisily.

"Who's there?" Mrs Hudson called. She came into the room, and smiled at her unexpected guest. "Mr Holmes, what brings you here?" Mrs Hudson caught sight of the pot in his hands and frowned. "Mr Holmes, are those my flowers?"

In the face of Mrs Hudson's displeasure, Holmes could only tell her the truth. "Yes, Mrs Hudson. I'm afraid I needed them for an experiment, and it did not go so well." Placing the pot of dead flowers on the table that had gotten him caught in the first place, he hastily made his way out the door and away from Mrs Hudson's disapproving frown.


	14. Friends Will Argue

_From cjnwriter:Dec 14: An argument (can be serious or not) between Holmes and Watson_

"You are not coming with me on this case, Watson!" I said, glaring fiercely at him.

"If I am not coming than you are not going, Holmes." Watson returned my glare, although the effect was diminished by the way his hand was clenched on the back of the chair as he struggled to remain upright. "This is much too dangerous for you to go it alone!"

"Look at you!" I scoffed "You can barely stand upright, how could you help me with this?"

Watson opened his mouth to reply, then suddenly swayed on his feet, his face turning grey. I sprang to his side, helping him into the nearby chair. He collapsed into it, his breathign heavy. "Oh, Watson," I murmured. "Please, just stay here."

"Only if you will, my friend." He stared at me, waiting for me to concede, or not.

How could I not concede in the face of such selfless devotion? "It will wait, my dear Watson. It will wait."


	15. A Cold Case

_From Galaxy1001D:  
Dec 15: Write a story where Holmes catches a cold._

"Achoo!"

"Holmes, are you alright?"

"Yes, Watson, I'm ferpectly fine."

"You are 'ferpectly fine', Holmes?"

"Yes, Watson, weren't you listening? Come, we have a case."

"No, Holmes."

"No? Watson, Lestrade came by not ten minutes ago with a new case for us. You were there. Surely you haven't forgotten already?"

"And surely you, master of deduction, have deduced you have a cold?"

"I I had a cold, I would still be out solving this case. As I do not, the point is moot. Come along, Watson, we're leaving."

"Holmes? Holmes! Blasted man, doesn't he know rest is the best cure for a cold?"


	16. Lady in Waitressing

_From mrspencil and Ennui Enigma:  
16/ Why is Holmes working as a waiter at Simpson's restaurant?_

One evening, not many months ago, I was dining at Simpson's on Holmes' instructions. Naturally, I was expecting him to meet me there, so imagine my surprise when the waiter who stopped at my table started speaking to me with my dear friend's voice!

"The young man serving the corner table has some kind of connection to the case of the disappearance of Lady Anne Roberts. Watch him, and see if someone passes him a hidden message, or some other means of secret communication." With that, Holmes left my table and continued taking other orders.

I watched the young man for the next few hours, but could see no secret communication of any sort. As his shift ended, I left my table and walked outside to observe the man further. I was soon joined by Holmes, and together he followed the young man back to his lodgings, in a surprisingly well to do part of town.

The man stopped at the doorway, and Holmes and I approached him. "Might we talk with you a moment, sir?" Holmes enquired.

The young man looked nervous. "Why talk to me?" he said in an obviously disguised voice. "I know nothing about anything."

"That, I'm afraid, is false," Holmes said. He turned to me. "Watson, meet the Lady Anne Roberts. Lady Anne ran away from home two weeks ago, and has been living with her uncle, disguised as a man."

Lady Anne stood up proudly. "Yes, I did. I wanted to see more of the world than my front lawn, so I decided to run away. I knew my uncle would let me stay. He knows what it is like to want to see the world."

"I'm afraid the adventure if over, Lady Anne. Your parents wish for you to come home, as they have been very concerned about you."

Lady Anne did agree to come with us, and we returned her safely to her parents. The next night, we celebrated the successful conclusion at Simpson's, and this time, Holmes was a customer, not a waiter!


	17. Overdose

**Sorry, Alosha, if this isn't quite what you wanted, but I wasn't quite sure what an overdose would be like, having thankfully little personal experience. I hope it will do! **

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_From Alosha135:_  
_17th - Holmes overdoses_

Watson walked in the door after a long day tending to patients, wanting nothing more than to relax by the fire with a hot drink. Unfortunately, that was not to be, as his eye was immediately caught by the sight of Holmes lying sprawled on the rug, not breathing.

Frantically, Watson dropped to his knees beside the prone figure, feeling at his neck for a pulse. Finding one, he took a quick breath of relief, then set to work. It would take many hours and much work before Holmes was out of danger.

He worked through the night, with Holmes's breathing failing twice more, though fortunately, his heart never stopped.

Finally, Watson was rewarded with the sight of grey eyes flickering open. "Never," he said, glaring fiercely at the owner of those eyes. "Do that again."

Holmes, too exhausted to do anything else, nodded in agreement.


	18. A Perfect Gift

_From Galaxy1001D:  
Dec 18: Write a story where Sherlock shows off his genius by buying everyone the perfect gift based off their psychological profiles and personal histories._

"I cannot think of a proper Christmas present for Lestrade!" Watson said, sitting in his armchair, notepad in hand. "Holmes, do you have any ideas? I'm afraid I can think of absolutely nothing."

"It's really quite simple," Holmes said, turning fromm the windowsill, where he had been looking out onto the street, hoping for a case. "Lestrade is of French background, and grew up in the poorer parts of London. As a child, his maternal grandparents from France visited he and his siblings, bringing with them an array of French treats. They died when he was young, and since then he has not been able to acquire any of those French treats, so I am giving him a basket of genuine French croissants."

"Amazing!" Watson exclaimed. "Have you done such deductions for anyone else?"

"Of course! What better way is there to find the perfect Christmas present? For Jones, he is in desperate need of new pair of glasses, as his current ones are too weak for him. Gregson has just bought a dog for his wife, but neglected to buy a leash to go with it, therefore I am giving him one. Mrs Hudson needs a new bonnet, as her current one is quite hideous. I believe she only wears it because it was a gift from her late mother. Mycroft doesn't deserve a gift, he never has."

Silence raised for a few moments, while Watson recovers from such a deluge of information from his normally secretive friend. "Splendid!" he said finally. "Splendid indeed! Might I ask," he added, looking innocent. "What did you get me?"

Holmes was not fooled. "No, Watson, I shall not tell you. I may not know much of Christmas traditions, but I do know that presents are meant to be a surprise!" _In addition_, Holmes mentally added, _I do not have a gift for you yet. Somehow, I never seem to find a gift that fits just right._


	19. Sherlock Who?

**This prompt ran way with me, and went off in a strange direction. I hope you like it! **

* * *

_From Hades Lord of the Dead:_

_Write a story where Watson suffers from memory loss - the last thing he remembers he was a soldier._

Watson's eyelashes fluttered open, to be greeted by the sight of three concerned faces staring down at him.

"Doctor, are you alright?" one of the faces asked. As his vision cleared, he could see that the face appeared to be that of a woman, a rather unusual sight on the battlefield.

"What are you doing here?" he asked the woman.

"I heard the crash and came upstairs," she answered, still looking worried. "Are you alright, Dr Watson?"

"He seems perfectly fine," another of the faces said abruptly. This one was a man, with sharp features and a rather beaklike nose. He moved away from the group, turning instead towards the window.

"He does seem fine," the third face agreed, sounding relieved. This one was also a man, with slightly shrewish features.

"Who are you all, and where are we?" Watson asked. Instantly, both faces in front of him were back to looking concerned.

"If this is a joke, John, it is in very poor taste," the second man said. "You must know who we are, you've known us for years."

"I assure you, sir, I've never seen you before in my life," Watson replied. "I don't know who you are, nor how you know my name, and I believe that if I had known you for years, as you say, I would recognize you now."

He sat up, and looked around the room. It was rather clutter, but still easily recognizable as a London room. "Where am I?" he asked. "I'm meant to be in Afghanistan, not London! What is happening?"

He turned to the two nearby. "Who are you?" he asked again.

"Bananas!" Holmes called out. Lestrade and Mrs Hudson turned to look at him in astonishment, missing seeing Watson drop back down to the floor. Hearing the thud, they turned back to him.

"What is going on?" Mrs Hudson asked, flustered. "First we find the doctor lying on the floor, with Mr Holmes not knowing how it happened, despite beign in the next room, then the doctor can't remember us, now the doctor's out like a light again! This is madness!"

"Look!" Lestrade said, gesturing to Watson. "Dr Watson's waking up again."

Watson's eyes blinked open. He looked slowly around the room, then his eyes closed again, until he suddenly opened his eyes and shot to sitting position. "Holmes!" he exclaimed. "Did it work?"

"It did indeed, my dear Watson," Holmes said warmly. "I thank you for your cooperation."

Lestrade and Mrs Hudson watched this exchange in bemusement. "What is going on here?" Lestrade asked, confused and rather annoyed. "Was this all just a trick?"

"I needed to prove that it is possible to wipe a man's memory without touching him. With Watson's agreement, I hypnotized him into forgetting everything in his life from being shot onward, this proving that it is possible to make a man forget his history."

"And you couldn't have told us this?" Lestrade said angrily.

Watson looked at Holmes indignantly. "You didn't tell them? Really, Holmes. You should have told them that I was alright."

In the face of three angry faces, Holmes wisely took his leave. "Well, Watson, I must deliver this news to the duke. Good day!"


	20. Last Minute Shopping

_From Lucillia:_  
_Dec 20. Holmes has left his Christmas shopping to the last minute._

Holmes looked around the store in dismay. There were people everywhere; purchasing special items for that special person, looking at knickknacks and this and that, and generally doing their last minute shopping. Not what he had hoped for when he had set out. Unfortunately, he had left his Christmas shopping to the last minute, and now had no choice but to venture forth into the shops, to buy presents for everyone before the shops closed.

Holmes raced through the shops, quickly buying whatever seemed like it might vaguely suit the recipient, simply so he could leave the shops sooner. Finally, his shopping was finished, and he was standing outside on the street with both arms full of presents. "Next time," he said wearily. "I'm buying presents in November."


	21. Pub Brawl

_From ME!:_  
_Pub brawl_

Every political campaign should start off with a pub brawl, and the 1885 election was one of them. An overly loud comment had been picked up on, challenged by the other side, and resulted in a fighting, brawling, writhing mass of people.

Holmes happened to have been caught in the pub that particular night, looking for information, and was caught in the mass. His considerable skill at boxing served him well, and he made it out of the crowd in one piece.

"And Watson wonders why I pay no attention to politics," he muttered to himself.


	22. Quill Pen

**Unfortunately, I have not managed to complete and post all my prompt answers in December, though I did try very hard. Hopefully, I will manage to have them all posted soon. **

* * *

_From Spockologist:_

_22. A beloved quill pen_

A special quill pen, under a Christmas tree,  
Given as a gift, here at 221B.

From detective to doctor, chosen with care,  
Presented with modesty, no special flair.

Received with delight, and soon put to the test  
The stories it pens, will be best of the best.


	23. A Choc-lot of trouble

_From ME!;_  
_Chocolate_

"Mr Holmes," Mrs Hudson said sternly. "What did I tell you about stealing chocolate from my pantry? I only have a limited supply, you know, it is very expensive."

"Mrs Hudson, it certainly could not have been me who had been stealing your chocolate!" Holmes said, standing tall. "I would never do such a thing! I would suggest asking Watson, he's just such the rascal who would steal chocolate."

"Shame on you, Mr Holmes, for trying to pass this off on the doctor," Mrs Hudson said, waggling her finger at him. "Those aren't tobacco stains on your lips! Besides, I know the doctor is too honest to ever be able to steal from my pantry."

Watson, having just this moment come into the room, hastily tucked something into his inner coat pocket before speaking. "Mrs Hudson! Is something the matter?"

"Oh, Doctor Watson!" Mrs Hudson turned around to face him. "Mr Holmes here has been accusing you of stealing chocolate from my pantry when I know perfectly well he is the one doing it."

"Really, Holmes? How could you accuse me like that?" The expression of hurt on Watson's face was betrayed by the mischievious sparkle in his eyes. "You must know I would never steal chocolate out of Mrs Hudson's pantry, and even if I tried, I'd never manage to get away with it. I'm afraid I simply have no talent for deception. You've said so yourself."

Mrs Hudson nodded her approval at him, then turned back to Holmes, thus missing the impish grin that Watson could hold back no longer. Faced by his grinning friend, and the righteously indignant Mrs Hudson, Holmes conceded defeat.


	24. Christmas Memories

_From Madam'zelleGiry:_  
_Day 24: Watson and Mary remember Christmas when they were children._

"It's so beautiful," Mary said, clasping her hands together as she looked around the newly decorated sitting room.

Watson came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "You've done a wonderful job."

"I couldn't have done it without you," she said, leaning back into his embrace. "I could never have reached those high corners." They rested for a moment in silence, then Mary commented, "I never had anything like this growing up." Watson looked curiously at her, but let her continue. "As you know, my mother died when I was young, and my father sent me to boarding school in England. It was a good school, but they didn't believe in having decorations, or even a Christmas tree. We had a nativity scene instead, and on Christmas Eve, the teachers would tell us the story of the first Christmas. It was nice, but nothing like this."

"My Christmases were very different," Watson said, after a short pause. "My father's family is Scottish, so we always went to Scotland for Christmas and celebrated with them. It was a noisy time, with lots of uncles, aunts and cousins, and a big Christmas feast."

There was a moment of silence, then Mary let out a soft laugh.

"What is it?" Watson asked, turning her to look at him.

Mary smiled at him. "I was just wondering what kind of Christmas Mr Holmes would have had as a child."

Watson thought about that for a moment, then joined her in laughter.


	25. The Hazards of Chimney Climbing

From Spockologist:  
25. Holmes tries to debunk the Santa theory by climbing down the chimney

"My goodness, Holmes! What are you doing up there?"

"I am proving, my dear Watson, that Santa Claus does not exist."

"And how does climbing the chimney prove that, may I ask?"

"Obviously, Watson, if I cannot climb down the chimney, how could a much larger man, carrying a sack of presents, climb down?"

"A sound theory, Holmes, with one exception."

"And what would that be?"

"If you cannot climb down the chimney, how will you get out of it?"

"I'll simply climb back up, of course!"

"Of course. Please do forgive me for asking."

...

"Watson."

"Yes, Holmes?"

"I believe I may be..."

"May be what, Holmes?"

"I may be...stuck."


	26. Moments Under the Mistletoe

_From Wordwielder:_

_26) Holmes tries to start taking down the Christmas decorations, to Watson's horror._

_As the door opened, Holmes froze in place, Christmas baubles still in hand._

"What do you think you are doing?" Watson asked cautiously, coming fully into the room and taking off his coat.

"Taking down the Christmas decorations, of course!" Holmes said, recovering his imperious manner. "Christmas is over, therefore the Christmas decorations no longer need to be cluttering up our living space." He placed the bauble still in his hand carefully back in its box.

"Holmes, no!" Watson said, looking horrified.

"Whyever not?" Holmes asked indignantly.

"It's a long standing tradition, to leave the Christmas decorations up until twelve days after Christmas," Watson explained.

Holmes snorted. "That's ridiculous. Why would you leave the decorations up after the celebration is over?"

"It's tradition, Holmes," Watson said tiredly, running his hand through his hair. "Who knows when it started?"

Seeing Watson's weariness, Holmes decided not to press the point, and instead changed targets.

"At the very least, I must insist we take down the mistletoe," he said, walking over and pointing up at it from underneath, prepared to take it down the moment Watson gave his approval; or the moment his back was turned, whichever was easier.

At that very moment, Mrs Hudson walked in to check on her tenants. "What are you two arguing about?" she asked, hands on hips. Catching sight of Holmes pointing upwar, she followed his finger to the top of the doorway, exclaiming,"Oh look, there's mistletoe!" Quickly, she kissed Holmes on the cheek, then went back downstairs, leaving him standing in shock.


	27. The Bonds of Boredom

_From Sparky Dorian:_  
_27. Holmes is bored and gets himself into trouble._

Cick!

"Mr Holmes, what do you think you are doing?" Lestrade looked down at the handcuffs now adorning his wrists, courtesy of Sherlock Holmes, and sighed. It was going to be one of those days. "Why did you handcuff me?" he asked, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose before he realized the handcuffs would make it supremely awkward.

"It is always a good idea for a policeman to be able to get out of his own handcuffs," Holmes looked condescendingly at him. "If you were captured, I'm sure you would appreciate the knowledge."

"And what is the real reason?" Lestrade asked. He had known Holmes for too long to accept such an explanation.

Holmes froze for a moment, then relented. "I have no cases, Lestrade, and my usual solace," here he glanced to his desk, "is unavailable."

"Why not go bother Watson, then?" Lestrade asked, curious as to the doctor's whereabouts, and trying to distract Holmes.

"Watson is out visiting patients," Holmes told him. He quickly strode over to the window and looked up and down the street, seemingly in hope of a new client. Seeing as he looked away moments later, Lestrade deduced that there were no clients on the street. Somehow, he didn't think Holmes would appreciate it if he shared that deduction.

A few moments later, and another click echoed through the room. Lestrade proudly held up the handcuffs, enjoying Holmes's rare surprise. "Next time you are bored, Mr Holmes," he said, relishing every word. "Try something a little harder."


End file.
